Bradford is our most conservative offspring of the entire crew. He's been campaigning hard to convince all his over-eighteen siblings they need to vote and to be sure to vote Republican, and he plans to drive all the way from Atlanta to Nashville so he can exercise his right. He never makes any major decision without months and months of research and before he has driven all his friends and family batty with his obsessive lists of pros and cons. When he was ten years old, we told him he could have his own dog for his birthday. One year of non-stop discussions and a dozen books later, he finally decided on the breed, the breeder and the puppy. That partnership rivaled that of Lassie and Timmy for many years.
Our Alex P. Keaton has gone and gotten himself a tattoo. To his credit, I have to say he didn't take his disfigurement lightly. He has talked of nothing else for months and has had me and everyone else he could corner spend hours on the computer comparing the relative talents of various tattoo artists around the Atlanta area. He had been on the waiting list of one sought-after artist for quite sometime now, and I'll bet he bombarded the poor guy with photos and emails while he waited so he could make sure the tattoo would turn out exactly as he imagined.
Brad is happy with the tattoo, and although I'm not too crazy about the idea, I'm glad he's happy. My fear was that it wouldn't turn out to be 100% perfect, and he would obsess about its flaws. In Brad's words, "it's awesome". I just hope he feels the same way when he is pushing fifty like his old mom and pop.
I'm a work-at-home mom of thirteen children ranging in age from twenty-six years old to five months old. Eight are home grown and five were adopted internationally (Russia, Guatemala, Vietnam and Ethiopia). We live on an 85-acre farm, and we have home schooled since 1986. My husband is a family physician in solo practice. I manage his practice and file the insurance claims.